on tour with a Scottish fast food fanatic…

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What can’t you get in New York?

Wife number one (and also the current Mrs. Blog) is due to arrive in the Big Apple this week and her advance party (brother-in-law number two) is due in about four hours into JFK. Today, therefore, was a last chance for me to eat something neither of them will be interested in. Since the current Mrs. Blog was stuffing her face with fish and chips last week after her half marathon in Glasgow I thought it would be appropriate to seek out a good old fashioned fish supper for my own pleasure knowing that this will not be on the menu for some time to come.

‘Fish and Chips! In New York!?’, you cry.

You get everything in New York.

I also had a mind to look for this ‘cronut’ thingy that everyone is going on about and to grab some of my usual snaps of New York life on the way.

If you allow yourself to be distracted by flea markets at the weekend in New York you can easily find yourself well off your intended route. You head down town and come across a street market and before you know it you are four blocks away with nothing to show for it but an ‘antique’ number plate you paid ten dollars too much for. Or worse, a T-Shirt with a filthy slogan that’s only funny in really bad company.

I didn’t buy either but I couldn’t resist a T-Shirt with a transfer that will disappear after the first wash.

Mrs. Blog will put a stop to such frivolity next week and replace it with far more useful items such as wooden bowls with native American designs and canvas bags to hide her other bags in.

Now chasing up and down markets is hard on the legs and I wondered if I should get one of the Citibikes which seem good value at $10 a day.

Basically you pay your money at http://citibikenyc.com/ and pick up a bike at a place like the one above and drop it off somewhere else in the city. Possibly in a place like the one below

I have met someone who cycles in New York regularly and his level of anxiety and peripheral awareness reminded me of ‘Brundlefly’ so I decided to give it a miss

I walked on with the two legs God gave me and eventually came to a shining testament to New York’s colonial history situated right on Greenwich Avenue a few hundred yards from the bottom of 8th Avenue.

I could instantly tell from the smoking chef outside that this was going to be authentic British fare.

And it was very good indeed.

They even had Irn Bru (though not diet – a flaw in their understanding of British culture in that we prefer a healthier option drink with our greasy fast food).

It wasn’t all that cheap. Pollock was the cheapest fish but I had haddock and paid $15 with a can of diet coke. Ten quid – not too bad.

I found the shop and it was singularly unimpressive. No doubt a ‘find’ for the Manhattan jet set who apparently queue from 8 a.m. every morning to sample this lump of deep fried dough for five dollars of their Wall Street earnings. For me I think I will wait for the Greggs substitute because I can think of much better ways of wasting that amount of money.

I could have had dessert at the chip shop for $4

Didn’t see anyone queueing for one of these. They should try drumming up business like this guy